Fusion
by White Shade
Summary: Grell is being shipped out the states, but before he departs, Undertaker has a few tasks for him. Of course, he won't be paying him, but there may be other methods of persuasion...Rating is definitely M. Viewer Discretion advised.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter One**

Running. Running through darkness. Not always darkness, but always after sunset. Every night. Ultimate, unlimited power. He needed this, and with so little to do, the rest of the night was as he pleased to spend until sunrise. Of course, he'd be back before then. The swift movement was always flawless and always unmistakable, a perfect identification as he moved past the cityscape in the moonlight.

Through silver, another looks to see this unmistakable creature. One who has grown, but not yet matched himself, and he wouldn't for a long time to come. Why not? He broke out the dusty old thing, polished blade upon its end, and went after the creature. The creature in crimson red.

He stops to take in the city's moist air before the night's rain has finally come to an end. Nothing usually bothered him, except that wretched, gorgeous demon Sebastian. The butler nor the child were even in sight on this night, and so the creature in red stops to ponder the butler in black for a little while. This night seemed no different than any other. The scythe at his side, he sat down to face the moonlit path down to London's port.

The silver flash reaches his peripheral vision, but he pays no sincere head. It is not out to harm him, but it is worth a turn of his head. The silver one does not hesitate to reveal himself to the crimson.

"Is it just you, or is red hair becoming the style of a reaper these days?"

"Oh, Undertaker, you flatter me so," the crimson one says with a sigh, turning back to the view of the docks.

The Undertaker takes a seat beside him, and it's not long before he notices-

"Your scythe?" Grell stares at the blade's shimmer against the moonlight. He turns back after a moment. "You're too late, I'm done for the night."

"Then why are you out here, if I may ask?" Undertaker pries, but Grell never minds, feeling obligated to explain himself before the legend.

"Anything to get away from Will for a few hours," Grell says.

"Is that all? Surely not...it's Sebastian too, isn't it? It's written all over your face," Undertaker does know all it seems.

Grell says nothing, but secretly wonders why the Undertaker has followed him out here. Was he hoping for a reaping? Getting some air? Just wants to gloat? Well, whatever.

"Bassy? If you came out here to talk with me about Bassy, well sorry, he's always on my mind. What about you then? Why you're out here, hm? Sneaking about tonight, with no one to reap," Grell inquires.

"The red is...hard to ignore." Grell looks up, surprised.

"Was that a compliment I heard just now? From you?" he asks. The legend smiles only, looking at him (at least, Grell thought he was looking at him). They share moments of silence before the Undertaker speaks again.

"Grell...relax," he commands.

"Relax? What do you think I'm doing out here?"

"No, relax," the Undertaker says again. "Let your entire body sink down, actually lean against the post at least."

Grell looks at him again. How does he know? He smiles.

"I can tell an overworked reaper when I see one," he sits behind Grell, commanding relaxation again, and so Grell stretches his legs out, feeling the muscle firmly place itself onto the rooftop and refuse to move, as did the other when he laid it out.

The Undertaker grabs Grell from behind by the waist and pulls her back against him, letting the crimson hair rest between them. Grell places her arms over the Undertaker's, completely relying on him for support.

"My, my, how many hours do you put in around here?"

"Too many," Grell replies as the red rims of her glasses sink down. "But I'm sure you've had your fair share."

"That I have," he says simply. "Now, tell me, how is it that a heart can still beat inside your chest?"

Grell remains silent on that question, probably simply just too tired to answer. The Undertaker can feel the ravishing rhythm of life residing in Grell, even onto her fingertips as they lay at rest atop his own.

"You know, I thought you were in the right," Undertaker stated rather plainly.

Grell turned slightly in question, letting a yawn escape his lips. "What? Will? Perhaps, perhaps not, either way nothing can be done about it. It's over, done with."

"And in my opinion, you both showed great promise, but only you remained your true self as a reaper...and for that, I offer my deepest congratulations."

"More flattery? My my, you're certainly quite the conversationalist this evening," Grell observed with what energy he possessed.

"Like I said, the red is hard to ignore."

"Oh? And what colour was your hair?" Grell asked, as Undertaker could feel her lay her head fully to rest upon his shoulder, partly to gander a bit while he answered.

"White. Always white."

"And your eyes?"

"The same," Undertaker told Grell. "You on the other end, have more ravishing features."

"Oh, stop it you," Grell was enjoying this too much.

"Does Will save you because of what you did for him that day?"

"I think he'll just never admit that he has a fondness for me, and that he's been so grateful all this time. I did, after all, save both our arses from failing the exam," Grell was finally relaxing.

"You're rather warm...for a reaper."

"Well, your compliments really are astonishing me so. I guess my hair is a reflection of my heart, wouldn't you say so?"

"A perfect crimson, indeed." Grell was blushing by now, hauling himself atop the Undertaker and bringing his face close.

"I wasn't going to tell, but I'm being exchanged for a small amount of time," Grell said.

"Oh? How long?"

"Oh, just a few years, I guess Americans die left and right of something or another, far more often than in London anyway," Grell replied. "So I have to train the new kiddies. The branch is expanding, shall we say."

"Interesting, what does that have to do with right now?" Undertaker asked.

"Well, I leave a few days from tomorrow, and all I have for company is Will," he sighed hopelessly. "But not tonight..."

Undertaker smiled. "You're coming back with me." Grell's eyes lit up, her jaw dropped with excitement, and the Undertaker swooped Grell into his arms.

"Oooo, a ronde vu with the legendary grim reaper," Grell was excited.

"The red is hard to ignore."

* * *

"Oh! Oh my! Oh yes, _please_ don't stop there...Now I know why they call you the Undertaker!" Grell was begging for more. The pain the pleasure were just too much to handle tonight.

"Ah ah," Undertaker lay on top, scythe in hand, pointing down upon Grell's leg. "With that comes all the more pain-"

"I don't care! I want you...I want you to take me. Just take me!" Grell could feel the blood oozing from the left leg, but he really didn't care. This felt just too good. The reaper slid his tongue along Grell's left leg, taking in the succulent blood from Grell's beating chest, but then went straight for Grell's reward.

Undertaker merged with Grell, in a grim reaper's fashion that is very close, highly pressurized, and with plenty of bloodstained sheets. The scythe's tip remained upon the red reaper's thigh, while breaths heaved between them and Grell dug nails into the Undertaker's back. Two fluids released that night, yielding two extensively exhausted reapers upon the only bed in the back of Undertaker's shop.

"You thought here was exhausting, America is much worse," Undertaker said, a few pants between. They'd been at it for five hours after all; even a reaper would be tired.

The splices upon Grell's legs were already healing themselves amidst the sweaty sting of them both. They lie together, within shades of red and gray.

"I must say, I didn't expect this from you," Grell confessed, leaning heavily against him.

"We reapers need our own time."

"True," Grell sighed. "I don't want to go to work on the nightshift again in 12 hours..."

Undertaker smiled, reaching for the phone upon his dresser. Grell looked questionably at him as he dialed a specific number.

"Yes, may I speak to the head?...Not in? Get me that Will boy then!"

"What are you-"

"Shhh..." Undertaker placed his finger upon Grell's lips and it remained there until he was done talking. Grell slouched back down, too tired to care almost.

"Yes, hello, good morning sir. I have Grell Sutcliff with me, and he shall remain occupied with me for the next day or so...yes, yes I know, he'll be ready, I promise you that. Yes, oh just a few things I need an extra hand for..."

Grell's eyes widened and a deep blush came over his face, waiting desperately to speak, for that phone call to end, and for him to kiss that Undertaker so passionately it was nealy aching him.

"Perfect, thank you Will, I knew you'd see me through. I'd run down myself, but I'm incredibly occupied. It was fortunate of me to run into Grell this perfect late evening..."

Grell's blush deepened until his cheekbones matched his hair. He'd said it was a "perfect late evening." That touched him, deeply and on a serious level.

"Ultimateness, thank you so much, Will. See you in the library." Finally, Undertaker hung up the phone, and with it, his finger off of Grell's mouth.

"Oh, Un...I don't know what to say. I'm speechless, you actually went to all that trouble for me? I-"

"You'll be working for me, I didn't lie, and you won't be paid. It's a few things, but I know you need a getaway, and this will be far less cumbersome for you," he told Grell.

"But...why?" Grell asked, coming in closer. Undertaker embraced her.

"Because, all reapers have their moments. The same was done to me, and if it hadn't been for him, I'd never have sent Marie Antoinette to hell." His smile was wide at the sight of Grell lying there, completely nude under that sheet, spectacles aside, and blushing before him.

"Oh, I can't even tell you how much that means to me! Seriously, there are no words except that I love you and will never forget this!...Oh...if I'm not going to be paid...is room and board acceptable?"

Reapers never eat, so that wasn't an issue, free labor, and a sex partner for another few nights...huh.

"Perfectly," Undertaker seemed to have already thought that through. Grell became giddy again.

"Can we...do this again?" Grell met Undertaker's eyes, the blush only slightly fading.

"Do you see another bed?"

"Oh! My my my!" Grell was overjoyed, proving it by leaning deliberately as to cause tremendous pressure on the Undertaker. He couldn't help but compliment the red hair once more.

Once Undertaker really thought about it, Grell wasn't as much a whore as everyone led him on to be. There were only three people in his/her entire life span that really made for some of those giddy feelings: himself, Will, and Sebastian. That was actually rather picky for someone supposedly a whore around the underworld.

Grell's reputation as a whore just couldn't get away from him, and he completely embraced it, which was rather impressive. He just really didn't give a fuck of what society thought of him. That was a reaper's luxury after all, at least among the living. But to ignore such a rumor among the eternal world, well that was two times now. Except, it wasn't a mistake Grell was making. Not to Undertaker.

"We start work tomorrow. Don't worry, I'll ease you into the daylight. You'll have to come out of the shadows for a few hours, but I think you can handle it...if your work is any indication of how you handled me."

"Oh, you're just incorrigible! So many compliments I don't know what to do with myself."

"Sleep. I know it sounds odd, but you'll need it."

Grell sprawled beside the Undertaker, miraculously able to relax his limbs and lean against Undertaker normally. He put his scythe in the corner and brought his other arm around Grell, leaving one free, in case anyone would dare rob his shop. He knew Grell was in a bliss, but that's what he needed. Grell wouldn't do the work he needed done if this weren't happening. Money may not even have been enough...


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

"My goodness, I swear if you weren't giving me what I wanted in the bedroom, I would have never agreed to this!" Grell was raging this morning. His energy was beaming, just not as much enthusiasm, but Undertaker expected that.

"Now now, you agreed nonetheless," he told Grell. "Now, hop in. We've got some funerals to create."

Grell's eyes widened slightly.

"You didn't say anything about reaping."

"Because we're not reaping, we're fitting."

Grell sighed, getting out of the light as fast as he could. Daylight could be so boring to him, and normally he was working the nightshifts, unless Bassy came around. The sun was going to be out all day, and it was hot. That's was ailed him right now. The heat. The scorching, terrifying, dreaded heat.

"You know, I might just drop dead if I get heat exhaustion," Grell said, pulling out a small fan and attempting to cool himself.

"You won't die of heat exhaustion. Now stop complaining. We're going to a library, and I need you pick up some materials for me..." Undertaker took out some books from a bag he'd been carrying with him. He gave a stack of books to Grell.

"I need you to return these," he said, giving Grell his card. "and then pick up these." Grell was then given a list of new books to find. He scanned the list.

"What could you possible want with _A Christmas Carol_ by Dicksy dear?" Grell asked. Undertaker smiled, but no real response. Grell sighed again, agreeing to the tedious chore. The carriage stopped, and Undertaker let Grell out of the carriage.

"I'll be back at the shop in a two hours. Be there."

Grell's jaw dropped, but before anything more dramatic could escape his mouth, the carriage was off again. As much as Grell wanted to chase him down, that was going too far today. Hopeless, he trudged into the library and did what Undertaker asked of him.

* * *

On the way back, Grell stared at the titles. Most of them were medical practice books, one of them even looked like those book in the Grim Reaper Library, but there was no cinematic record...he checked.

He sat alone in the shop for about a half an hour when someone walked through the door. What was he supposed to do? Undertaker left the shop wide open, no sign or anything. He didn't even know how to run the shop or anything about...oh, wait.

"Hello?" the customer called, seemingly a middle-aged mortal of the male species, but never Grell's type. He was unsure, as most of the people who came in were. Too late to pretend no one was at home.

"Hello," Grell appeared from behind the back door. "What can I do you for today?"

At the sight of Grell, the man was thrown off, not that this reaction surprised Grell in the least. The same could not be said for the customer.

"Look honey, I'm new at this, so I need to know what you want, I can't predict it," he told the customer.

"Uh, yes. Well, i-it's my dear old aunty Sue. We know what's coming, she's been suffering from a disease. She's uh, only about 1 and a half meters tall..."

Grell wrote down the numbers and began questioning what they were willing to pay for this service. After checking Undertaker's pricing lists, this job seemed pretty down to the tee.

The customer expressed interest in a small funeral and a simple coffin, which Grell gave him a price range for.

"Sorry, I'll have to find the model too. Unfortunately, I haven't had the proper time to investigate every part of this shop yet," Grell was searching for the simpliest model, realizing that while Undertaker organized a proper list, a proper location and inventory to match seemed out of his skill set.

"When did you start?" Oh lovely, small talk with the mortals.

"Yesterday, I'm temporary though. The Undertaker who usually sits around here is off on a business call for another hour. Believe me I'm as frustrated as you...here it is."

Grell found the coffin and measured out the old woman's size by visual, asking for the man's name and a number so Undertaker could return the call with the exact pricing and when the coffin would be ready if he decided to order right away.

That was over! Grell sighed with relief, leaning back against the table. That was exceedingly awkward, especially for a grim reaper. When Undertaker finally returned, Grell couldn't help but mention the customer and his peculiar ways.

"Expect that," Undertaker replied. "You'll be dealing with a few more, including a funeral this evening. And before you complain-" Grell's finger was already up the air, his jaw nearly dropped to speak.

"Yes, you can do the reaping."

"Reaping?" Grell asked, adjusting his spectacles. "That person's record should have been taken already, whoever it was."

Undertaker smiled. "The funeral is this evening, seven o'clock sharp. You'll be needing this." He handed Grell his own death scythe, the old fashioned scythe grim reapers used, but this one belonged to the legend.

There was something different about this one, though. In his hands, the scythe felt lighter, it bore a naturalist effect when Grell swung it. The blade ran smooth, near to the feeling of literally cutting the air with a knife. A shiver ran from his shoulder down his back.

"I customized it...without authorization of course," Undertaker smirked.

"How do you mean?"

"It's specifically designed to be lighter, fold, swing faster, and if you find yourself against two souls..." Undertaker took the scythe. "If you're a reaper..."

He grasped the middle where the blade could emerge, and with both hands, he split the scythe into two separate ones.

"How?!" Grell exclaimed.

"It's a spare blade, so I can't always guarantee it's the sharpest in the shed. But right between the folds of the first blade, I have another space for a blade. And between that, the wooden handle comes apart when the latch inside becomes jostled as follows."

Undertaker put the blade back together as Grell observed intently. There was a spot for another blade on the bottom half, that much was true. He then saw that it could fold just the right way and lock inside. The lock itself was impressive, made of metal, and place with clever planning. The little lever for adjusting the scythe's height become the lever for another blade!

When Undertaker became a reaper, there were fewer tools to choose from. The scythe was a classical selection, so the association mass produced them, thereby making their wooden rods adjustable for any reaper to use. Undertaker had already adjusted his for his height and use, and then he converted that little hook into a latch. The blades were foldable because they too had separate sections to fold neatly into a straight line. The second blade was especially well hidden, leaving the first blade, the initial one, to stick out slightly when brought it.

"Unbelievable. That is subtly at its best, I must admit," Grell was impressed.

"As was being a reaper," Undertaker replied. "Now that you know how it works, you'll be needing it. Subtly is key."

"Why am I going to need this?" Grell was determined for information, but Undertaker wasn't giving it to him. Instead, they loaded up a carriage to pick up the deceased. When that was through, Undertaker glanced back at Grell.

"We won't be returning until late, so apologies if your payment isn't received right away," Undertaker mentioned. Grell positioned himself closer to lean on his shoulder as Undertaker took the reins.

"You know I'll wait for _those_ eyes." Grell hung onto his right arm the entire way. Undertaker smiled. He had seemingly reaped Grell's selectively beating heart right out of his chest.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

Arriving upon site, Grell couldn't see what the big deal was. The funeral looked lovely and all, everyone dressed in black and all solemn. Undertaker placed the coffin down, the body inside, while Grell watched his every move.

Undertaker took Grell's red coat and replaced it with a black one, placing the red one in the carriage.

"You can't go looking like that. The red is lovely, but you must be a part of their world for a few moments. Just stand like you're on business, you don't have to say anything." Undertaker's words were almost in a whisper as he placed his hands upon Grell's shoulders. He removed Grell's spectacles, laying them gently upon his vest. He then tied Grell's hair back, making the length less prominent.

Indeed, Grell's manner was a tad too obscure for the audience. The red hair flamed out enough as it was, and he felt de-reaperfied. Still, he could see Undertaker and the crowd, which made him swallow hard. He looked back to the carriage where the scythes were, and no one seemed to notice them. Why would he need them? Without a To Die list, there was no predicting the death of anyone else here.

The speeches given seemed to drone on for the both of them, but Undertaker knew Grell was feeling the most pain of the two of them. After the gathering, the body was buried into the ground, marked with a crossed tombstone, the prayers all said, some tears of course, and then the departure.

Undertaker walked up to the minister, extending his welcome and a generic thank you for the attendance of the one who died. The minister exchanged currency with Undertaker, which confused Grell a little but he remained with his mouth shut. Grell was introduced to the minister, whereupon he said nothing as the minister extended his hand.

"Now, what was it she died from?" Undertaker inquired.

"Illness, so I heard," the minister replied. "Have you seen this before?"

"I've been hearing it more than I'd like to admit, but do tell me, sir...how many deaths now?"

The minister seemed to shuffle himself uncertain of the exact number.

"About 30," he sheepishly said. "It's a sad but true fate. We all die someday," the minister sent them off in the carriage. Undertaker said nothing for a long while, just smiling.

"Oh, I can't take it anymore! Why the hell are you smiling?" Grell asked, arms folded over his chest.

"The minister has the illness. That woman who just died, those two had an affair some years back. I find it ironic that a minister would hold the funeral of a woman he loved. Most mortals would be too grief stricken."

"Why did he pay you?" Grell asked. "What for?"

"For the coffin. That too is most interesting."

"So, a mortal paying for a woman's coffin, whom he had an affair with, and held her funeral. He's just a little twisted is all. Mortals are messy things," Grell said.

"Grell..." Undertaker stared at him for a moment. "if I know a dead corpse and a dying soul, and I do, that woman was neither."

"How can you tell?"

"She'd been sent to the morgue on account of her illness, that's when I first heard of her. The illness, of course the mortals haven't figured it quite yet, but people are dropping like moths to a flame..."

"Where are you going with this? She's dead."

"No, no she's not, but no one will question that, considering that minister and her were once lovers. They might still be, and what better way to break off an engagement than with a death?"

" 'Till death do they part..."

"Now you're getting it." Undertaker gave Grell his scythe.

"But he has the illness," Grell said. "Won't he die anyway?"

Undertaker smiled, not answering Grell's question as though Grell could answer it himself.

"Romeo and Juliet."

Grell sat back, smirking.

"So, this is what you do? You find interesting stuff like this, never report it and collect a few cinematic records over it?"

"Oh I don't find it, it comes to me," Undertaker said. "Their deaths will be handled by the reapers, but sometimes, it's more than we can bare alone."

* * *

The remainder of the carriage ride was in silence, but Grell actually preferred it that way. He had to prepare for what was coming. A reaping two of them needed to handle together? Undertaker must have seen this coming all along. To need a second reaper though, they weren't in school anymore. That felt so far behind Grell, he couldn't imagine how Undertaker must feel from that standpoint.

He almost got out and wanted to run on foot, but Undertaker remained seated, thinking about who the devil knew what. Grell never could seem to stay on Undertaker's level for there was a level of insane there Grell just couldn't identify with. There was a method underneath those silver strands, and although he hated to admit it, he had no idea what it was. That's what made Undertaker interesting.

The eyes behind the silver were the most beautiful deadpools of peridot. He always had this gentle gaze about him, but any other time, there was never an inkling of his eyes to show what emotion he held. The moment Grell parted his hair, that was it for hours. He could just stare, and Grell would melt right into him.

"Grell," Undertaker broke the silence, snapping the reaper back to the world. "Have you ever regretted becoming a reaper?"

The question surprised him.

"Um, no. Never," Grell said, a little stuttered. "The final exam was a little difficult, but once you get the hang of it..." He lost his sentence to another interruption.

"Not the reaping," he said. "The suffering. Do you ever tire of watching it?"

"Some days are better than others, but I suppose that depends on me," Grell admitted. "Why such a serious question all of a sudden?"

"I was just curious."

"Why did you decide to become a reaper?" Grell asked. "Surely there was a reason."

"I don't remember."

More silence as the moonlight seemed to glow ever higher in the sky. The carriage seemed like it'd been moving forever, but Undertaker parked the horses around the back of the cemetery they'd just been in! They must have moved through at least a part of town, Grell just didn't notice.

Death Scythes in hand, the two reapers made their way through the gravestones.

As much as Grell pressed the situation, Undertaker seemed to be playing hard to get. Not that Grell minded all that much.

"Focus on the task at hand, please," Undertaker said slowly, stopping himself in his tracks. He and Grell snuck around a couple trees, grouped nicely together for the two of them. "And look there..."

"Huh, well what do you know? Sure enough, that little prick's come to get his true love. How sweet."

"They weren't scheduled to die, she was not scheduled to die, and I know it. If she had, you wouldn't be here right now."

"And just why not?" Grell whispered.

Undertaker smiled, glancing back to the minister who was now digging up the grave. The reapers watched, each questioning a different matter entirely. Grell was intrigued to see if the mortal was still alive and what would happen to her soul if she weren't. There wasn't a single reaper on the site of death, or so it seemed to Undertaker.

The legend on the other hand, was analyzing the situation. The Reaper's Association was good, but they weren't this good yet. Every once and a while, there are a few mishaps. Not necessarily mishaps, just error. They are still human, whether or not they care to admit that is up to them.

"Sometimes, there are certain additions to the To Die list," Undertaker whispered. "The souls of two lovers will be most difficult, especially together. They'll fight to live as long as there's something to hold on to. Ready?"

Grell nodded. "Good, you have the minister."

Undertaker emerged from the hiding spot, knowing what was about to unfold. This would be most interesting.

The minister took his beloved into his arms, trying to wake her up and remove the preparations Undertaker had done so well. She opened her eyes faintly. They exchanged a few romantic words as they emerged from the grave. But, it wouldn't last. She collapsed to the floor, feeling faint and dizzy.

"So sorry," Undertaker interrupted, both of them turning. "You're on the door of death it seems my dear."

"Wh-wh-you!" the minister gasped, forever mortally surprised.

"Hi," Undertaker greeted. "You see, she's not going to live much longer. Nice try."

Right now, Grell figured Will was up there scrambling for his life to find someone to go out on the site. The girl was close to death, even though it wasn't foreseen and recorded in the reaper library. This was supposed to be a successful story, but Undertaker seemed to catch the error. Even more, he played the minister into trust during the process.

"You see, the chemicals inside of her aren't made for life. And she looked so gorgeous too...what a waste." Undertaker drew his scythe as she lay in the minister's arms, as he was fraught speechless before the reaper.

Undertaker pierced her heart, revealing the cinematic record and took it off with him as he moved two stones down to sit and observe, brushing back his bangs to reveal his reaper's spectacles. Grell's eyebrows rose at the sight of the man as he reviewed records.

The minister was shaking his head, crying in pain, repenting everything it seemed he felt to be wrong. He knew he was dying as well. If anyone caught wind of this, he was a goner as well. The knife in his back pocket seemed sufficient enough.

"Hmm. A minister committing suicide. I'm sure that's somewhere in the Bible," Grell was monologuing, but he emerged from his place too.

"You were right, Romeo and Juliet, except a minister and a noble little thing looking to run away. I'd almost say it's more like _The Scarlet Letter_, how scandalous, you two. Naughty naughty!" Grell emerged as the minister stabbed himself in the chest. Grell took the other scythe and pierced the minister, revealing the record and sitting next to the Undertaker.

"Now, we watch."

They watched the records, explaining how they met and all the pain it seemed they'd gone through in their separate lives. After exchanging a few words about the record, the film started to wrap around them, which they cut. It was all just blank spots.

"Careful!" Undertaker said, fiddling with the record. The records overlapped with each other.

"What the hell?" Grell stood up. Undertaker drew his second blade.

"They're fusing."

"How?"

"Lovers, they don't give up."


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four**

The cinematic film was trying to rewind and start again, which is a major problem for the reaper association. Consistency is key in a job like this, and this was definitely _not_ consistent.

Grell had never seen this before. The two souls were trying to use their power together to bring each other back to life.

"Don't let it hit the bodies," Undertaker instructed. "Make it chase you."

Grell cut a juicy bit of their meeting film and ran with it. The record chased after the reaper. It needed all memories intact in order to make a full recovery. Undertaker continued to struggling with the dying soul of the maiden, but he knew what to expect. Grell on the other hand, he was very new at this.

"My, what an irritating soul. He really thinks he deserves the heavens all right. He seemed to justify himself, but this just cannot do."

Grell took his second blade and slit the film twice. What an efficient death scythe! He was most pleased.

"Now! Help me take the center!" Undertaker yelled. Grell was battling the force of the minister, which seemed contradictory. He wanted to die to be with his lover, for what purpose?

"Did they know this would happen?" Grell shouted, being wrapped by both of them. Undertaker slashed the first half and red reaper got the second.

"It would seem so, doesn't it?" Undertaker and Grell charged for the center. With the powerhouse dismantled, there was no going back. They captured both halves of each life within the scythes and out emerged their storybooks.

Grell was panting. "What the hell was that?"

"I've only seen it one other time. And I almost lost."

"Really? Where?" Grell just had to know.

"...When you died." Grell's eyes snapped wide open and a gasp escaped his mouth.

"When I-but, no one knows about the past of the reapers, that's part of the law!" He protested. "Shut up!"

Undertaker took the maiden's body and the ministers, burying them together in the coffin and closing the lid. He gave Grell a shovel and the two of them worked to rebury the bodies. Grell asked countless questions during the process.

"Reapers choose souls in which they think will benefit the association the greatest. The people are stripped of memories of love and family, but friends might still remain. This isn't a problem considering the souls are required to have very little family ties and strong souls."

"I've seen some pretty weak ones in my day I must admit. Surely that's not a thing."

"It was when I was reaping," Undertaker said. "Only the greatest souls were put through the school. Because in life, they proved they had qualities of reapers."

"Oh yeah? Like what?"

"Fighting cinematic record, determination, willingness to work long hours, deterrence, things of the sort. At the time, your record proved most promising."

"You mean you chose me to go through the system?" Grell exclaimed. Undertaker smiled. "I almost beat you? MY cinematic record almost beat YOU?"

"That it did. Your memories have been permanently erased in the system, but I do remember them. How could I forget the soul that proved a worthy foe?"

"Wait, what are you saying? You know what I was like before I became a grim reaper, is that what you're saying? That you brought me to the association to be recruited?"

Undertaker smiled again, and Grell was awaiting answers by the plenty now. Undertaker held him by a string.

"You know how that process works, if you find a soul that proves a truly unique perspective and outlook on their life, you may choose to present that soul to the board. From there, they evaluate the soul and either agree or disagree. If they agree, usually they do, you are taken and restored, a blank slate of relatives but enough personality to not forget yourself."

"Unbelievable!" Grell gasped. "How do I know you're not just making this up?"

"You don't, but think about it. Why would I bring you all the way out here if it wasn't important or significant to you?" Undertaker smirked.

"You know, this is the most I think you've talked to me, like ever," Grell mentioned. "From what I remember anyway."

"You passed, as I thought you would. Sure, you're a little side tracked, but so am I. Look how we turned out."

"Do you know who brought you in?" Grell asked.

"No, I do not," Undertaker replied.

"But I almost beat you. My cinematic record?"

"It did. You put up an impressive fight. Practical skills, your grade didn't surprise me. Ethics didn't either."

"Hey!" he snapped.

Undertaker didn't say much more about the matter, and Grell wondered about believing him or not. The laws were true, he knew that much. Had he been such an exceptional soul that Undertaker, the legendary reaper, chose Grell to become a reaper?

"If my cinematic record almost beat you, how did you overcome?"

"I had a second blade."

Grell looked at the scythes. Undertaker was far ahead of his time. All the information Grell had just obtained, if true, seemed totally illegal. Reapers weren't supposed to know things about their pasts before coming to the association. Then again, Undertaker didn't tell him about his past life, just what happened after the reaping. Surely that was all right. After all, the legend was retired.

"The souls have rankings. Did mine?" Grell asked.

"No, that system was developed later than my prime time, but if we take these two to the library we can find their ranks together. Then you'll have an estimate."

"Does anyone else know you recruited me?"

"I wouldn't think so. The information I've given you isn't against the codes. I just thought you might be amused to know."

"I was, very." Grell topped the grave and the two retreated back to Undertaker's shop.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five**

"So, what are we supposed to do now?"

"We wait until tomorrow."

"Tomorrow?!" Grell exclaimed, stating that was his time of departure for the States, not that he desired to go, but he would much rather see the standings of the two souls they'd just captured.

Undertaker sighed, thinking for a few moments as he offered his dog treats to the table along with the tea for this evening. Politely refusing every time, Grell stared at the book containing the woman's soul, reading every portion and noting how unhappy she truly was with that dreadful sounding husband of hers.

There was no room for emotion in a job, that's what William had always said. This couple was unlike every other yet so alike. Another past, another life, another day, and this would never end as long as the board was alive and people remained upon the earth.

Undertaker reached for the phone again, offering Grell another way out of work, but this time, the red reaper took the phone and untapped it from its cord.

"No, we shall go tomorrow morning, bright and early. It's only a matter of hours. The library will open. You've still got that keycard of yours, don't you?" the reaper asked.

"That I do," Undertaker replied. "And I do believe I owe you...one reaper to another."

Grell's eyes lit up slightly, thinking about the context of that situation.

"Well then, we've got nearly all night," Grell said, blushing as they walked into the bedroom. It usually was never used, for Undertaker usually slept in a coffin, but the back room prevented the mortals from questioning his behavior. And then there were nights like this. The red reaper climbed into the bed slowly, turning his body to look at Undertaker from behind his bloodstained hair.

"You might be more tired than you think," Undertaker smiled.

"Bring it, honey."

The bloodstains had never been washed from their last endeavor, but tonight was going to be even better, maybe even bloodier.

Undertaker took the red coat, hanging it on a bedpost. Then, he took some white rope and tied Grell's wrists to the top two posts. Normally, Grell would want the top for a game like this, but since it was Undertaker who was owing him, the bottom didn't sound too bad.

"My my, what _do_ you have planned?"

"Not telling," Undertaker replied, stripping Grell of his vest and undershirt right away. In an attempt to take off his spectacles, Undertaker placed them back onto his face.

"You'll be keeping those."

Grell's right eye narrowed, trying to figure out Undertaker's plan. It started exceedingly slow, with the bounder's nails skidding across Grell's delicate skin until there was not a single area upon his torso in which Undertaker missed. His touch alone was sending Grell's riling on the inside, enough to accelerate his heartbeat.

This was relaxing enough, feeling the black robe of the Undertaker's against his skin and the long black nails creating sketch marks all along the reaper's body. Suddenly, his death scythe came up to nick red from the bounded reaper's neck, who smirked at the pain. The bounder charged for the spot of blood, sucking it from Grell's neck at just the right sensitivity point, riling him up. Now, he was dominated by images of black and white looming over him, but he liked every second of it.

The nails detached pants from Grell, exposing him tied up just the way Undertaker wanted as he proceeding his teasing methods through the slash and attack process with his death scythe.

"Ow! What are you-oh my..." Grell's head had jerked up at the pain of the scythe but he withdrew once Undertaker went to collect the blood that had already been congregating. His eyes closed at the feeling of saliva lubing the wondrous sucking motion against his genitalia. His release was far from its destination, though.

Grell begins to moan at what the bounder is able to get from him. Continuous strokes from the neck to the thigh regions become so subtle as Undertaker bides his time with licking Grell's neck, until he decides to put sudden pressure on top of him, weighted around the red reaper's waistline. Then, the touch was noticeable on all levels. Writhing was a more common motion as the reapers continued. Undertaker knew how badly Grell wanted to scratch after an hour of his teasing, but to compensate, he only slashed one of the ropes.

"Oooo, you are, so cruel indeed..." he sighed, wrapping his free wrist around Undertaker's neck when he came close enough to nearly touching the red spectacles. Grell's hand reach up to pull back the white bangs, revealing the most gorgeous eyes!

"Now now," Undertaker said, gently pulling Grell's hand away. "You know what happens when you look into my eyes..." He pushed his weight further into Grell's most sensitive area right now from under the black robe, making Grell notice Undertaker's lack of underclothing tonight. His blush deepened intensely as Undertaker drew a little more blood from Grell's side.

His hand wrapped around Grell to work on a combination of handing and blowing, taking breaks to draw a little blood and for Grell to collect himself just barely every time.

"My God, where in hell did you learn to-!" Grell was lost within moans and sighs, satisfying Undertaker as the icing on his bloody cake to Grell's paradise. His hand came around the reaper's leg, tracing a careful path underneath and back up to Grell's neck.

Undertaker smirked, letting the reaper's left wrist go, where Grell proceeded to tackle the bounder to the other side of the bed and flip him over, sneaking underneath the robe.

"You've riled me too much, darling," he warned as he began to push himself against Undertaker's behind just to feel the pressure he'd become addicted to. Smirking again, Undertaker fought back, not allowing the red reaper his release, tackling Grell to the bottom to draw more blood and suck from his shoulder, but they were fighting now. Grell's red nails came to scratch from underneath the black robe, which was already being pushed higher and higher. Blood emerged from Undertaker's back, dripping down as the black robe was finally cast aside. The ropes were long broken.

Grell pinned the bounder this time, rolling him until he finally got the top again. It wouldn't last forever, and there seemed to be no release for either of them at this point.

"By God, it's too much!" Grell exclaimed as Undertaker forced him down, but Grell slipped out of the grasp, reaching back to trace new marks and grasp Undertaker's ass, forcing him closer but also allowing the scythe even closer. This was very impressive, how Undertaker could accomplish most of this with one hand occupied by a death scythe. The red reaper lay in a bloody heap, panting but not ready to give up.

"Would you like a release?" Undertaker spoke calmly, but Grell knew better. He was riled up just as much by the sight of his erection. Grell's lips crashed into Undertaker's, purely for the sake of wanting him to shut the hell up. He felt a moan from the back of the legendary reaper's throat, which only made himself feel more energized.

The red reaper broke from the grasp, turned himself around and began sucking on Undertaker, and in turn, he did the same for Grell. Through the humping motions, moaning, sweat, blood and panting, the reapers each got a taste of each other's medicine. Undertaker kept Grell's release in his mouth, but the feeling was too much. Dripping saliva and semen, the red reaper needed his release.

"Oh for God's sake, _hell_ yes!"

Barely scraping himself back to Undertaker's level on the bed, Grell laid himself onto Undertaker's chest, hearing the heartbeat and the heavy breathing of his opponent. He too, sighed countless times.

"I must say, you are one hell of a lover to tamper with," Undertaker confessed. Grell's sleepy smile didn't last long upon his face.

"Take me," he sighed.

"With pleasure," he cracked a smile, sending Grell to the bottom half again and colliding with him over and over until there was nothing but a literal bloody mess compiled of sweat, blood, and semen all around them. Undertaker took his place beside Grell, out of breath himself.

"My my, that's my record for sure!" Grell exclaimed. "How long were we at that?" He looked over who returned the gaze, smirking and laughing.

"Just over five hours, but you were released only twice," Undertaker said.

"Oh the torture you bring to me!" Grell said, sighing. "What's your record?"

"My record?"

"Yes, how long have you been sexually engaged?" Grell asked.

"You've broken _my_ record too it seems, Sutcliff." The red reaper smirked.

"Good to know."


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter Six**

Waking up earlier never seemed so difficult yet blissful before. It was completely obvious what had happened last night once Grell woke from his slumber, noticing Undertaker at his side. There was still some energy left in the red reaper to get himself up to take a quick bath before the bounder woke himself.

"I depart in four hours," Grell said. "I'd like to know what those two souls rank together."

"Patience, patience," Undertaker replied, crawling out of bed. "It's been a while since I've slept in a bed." Grell stopped at the door, his hand on the doorframe and he looked at Undertaker.

"Did I break you?" Grell asked, showing his teeth.

"Is that a challenge I hear?" Undertaker asked, emerging from the sheets.

"Hardly," Grell replied. "Another time, perhaps. Now come on. Let's go." Grell, refusing sex? He really was in a hurry.

* * *

The doors to the Grim Reaper Library creaked slowly as Undertaker took the two souls into the weighing room with Grell Sutcliff. From there, Sutcliff placed the two souls, documenting them as one and set them onto the scale to be ranked by weight and strength to determine a difficulty ratio.

The two waited anxiously for the results. Each soul was judged on a scale of 0 to 100 to make numbers easier to define. 0 meant that the soul was willing or perhaps wished to die. 100 meant quite a fuss. Attempting to predict the soul's weight determined which reapers collected which souls, but sometimes, the rankings were slightly off. The couple's rank was determined by the scale's balancing act, sinking until the arrow literally pointed to a number upon the soul collection scale.

"This is about what my soul caused you...alone?" Grell turned. Undertaker nodded, remembering the experience like it was yesterday.

"You don't see a soul like that every day," and his words were true. There were rarely any souls that passed into the 80s on the scale of reaping and collection. This couple, however, surpassed everyone's expectations.

"What?!" Grell screamed, echoing throughout the library. "A seven? You must be joking." He turned away in shame after what seemed liked more work than it was worth.

"Wait," Undertaker pointed out. "They're separating."

Grell turned to see the fusion disappear. "The humans almost succeeded. Their souls would have overpowered us or even been stronger. Had both of them wanted to cheat death."

"But, but they did!" Grell whined.

"No, not both of them. One of them did. When we reaped the soul, I think the truth out of half of them came out. She did not want to live forever."

"So, wait her soul weighs-" Grell gasped as he saw the first soul lay to rest in its cinematic record. Before raising into heaven, the spirit locked itself inside the record book. It would not come out until it was ready to leave.

The second soul's number appeared on the scale.

"That's more like it," Undertaker pointed. "93."

Grell screamed again. "Together they'd have been the perfect soul. A perfect 100. Does that mean that combined they caused us the fuss of a 100 point soul?"

"It's your system," Undertaker smirked. "You tell me."

"That depends," another voice emerged from within the library. Both reapers turned to where the voice was coming from as it got closer to them to look at the soul scale itself.

"Will!" Grell said.

"A soul with a weight such as this one happened to find a perfect match, but the other half could have been much worse. Even still, had she been willing to fight as much as he, the scale would have only gone up to 100. because that is the maximum strength a soul can posses on its own. Combinations like the two souls you witnessed seldom happen, but do not combine the totals. Just because one soul has a high number and one a lower number, together they will never possess the strength of a 100 level soul. This is not addition and subtraction, Grell Sutcliff."

"I see," Undertaker said. "But still, a 93 level soul? A bit hard to miss isn't it?"

Will adjusted his glasses. "There was no error. Reaper Sutcliff was supposed to retrieve both souls. Good to see you're putting him to use, Undertaker."

"Hold on, I took the minister," Grell said. "Have you ever collected a soul that ranked 93, Will?"

"I have not," William admitted, glaring back. "It must be one of the most frustrating tasks. You see, I did not receive a triple A in practical skills."

Spears was returning a few materials and as he walked away, Undertaker saw Grell blushing.

"Aw, how nice of 'im to give you the most difficult work on your vacation time," Undertaker said. "Most rude indeed."


End file.
